


Loose from Leyding

by ColubridCola (SisterPuce)



Category: Powers (Comics), Powers (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Christian Walker is a gigantic prat, I always imagine young Royalle as Noah anyway, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Just rated for language, M/M, Mild gore in second chapter, gotta be careful, not that it matters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterPuce/pseuds/ColubridCola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolfe/Royalle ficlets. Based on the PSN Powers series, not the on the comics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leyding

**Author's Note:**

> I regret the abruptness of this first ficlet and how it begins but I'm lucky to have even written it as it is with my nearly constant brain-fog.

"You've never really known Wolfe. Not like me."  
There was something protective about how Royalle phrased that, looking down his hooked nose as if he were a patrician addressing a lowly provincial laborer.

Both Walker and Royalle were sort of Wolfe's right hand men back in the good old days and it felt to Christian that Johnny was implying that Wolfe had been playing favorites. It shouldn't have mattered to Walker but he essentially lived in the past and the possibility that the man he once had venerated could have been more of a bastard than Christian always insisted- always wanted - was very after Wolfe had consumed thousands, Christian still fought with the feelings of lying about capturing him. At least that's what he thought he felt guilty about.

In years of hating Wolfe for absorbing his powers, he had buried the remorse of betraying their tutor, their friend, and not giving him the death he had begged for.

"Oh, really?" he replied with smug indigence.

_Johnny recalls a time years before the tobacco carved worry into his countenance with ghostly fingers._

_In classic Royalle style, he was poured into a pair of black pleather slacks and a indigo polyester blouse was plastered to his back with sweat, hair coiffed back in a fauxhawk, his tall boots buckled nearly up to his knees._

_He had spotted his mentor in a secluded corner of the club alone, watching him dance with slitted, feral eyes_

_In a moment that he could remember thinking was displaced from reality, Johnny had felt the mass of someone's body press into the small of his back, causing him to casually turn around to meet the new dance partner as usual. He snatched in his breath, met with the man he revered._

_The Wolfe bared his fangs. His face was soft but authorative and he shortly outstretching his hand in invitation_

_Behind the red, filtered light that fell from the frosted glass hiding the sanction lounge exit, Johnny Royalle succumbed to the Wolfe's kiss. Partly because he was too scared to refuse, partly because he actually wanted to return that kiss. A kiss so achingly warm, so fiercely starved that his head swam._

"Really," Johnny Answered matter-of-factly "He taught me things about myself that I never knew..." Royalle took a drag on his cigarette "I often wonder how things woulda' turned out if he hadn't have lost it. He was kind of like a father to me in some ways."

"You were his favorite, I guess. Doesn't change the fact that He's still a murdering old fuck."

"Wolfe didn't play favorites, Christian. I was just more receptive. You know how it was. Kidz thought he was cool, they liked his stories, the attention he attracted. Sometimes he even taught us stuff. But they also thought he was," he waved his hand "...old. Past his prime. I didn't."

Christian blinked and looked to the ground for a moment, A small pang of regret withered as quickly as it bloomed. Why should he feel guilty? Royalle had mentioned that he didn't think that Walker had shown as much respect to Wolfe as he should have. True, he was rebellious but Walker liked to think it was charmingly so.

"Did you break him out, Johnny? Was it some kind of daddy issue thing?"

" _DON'T_."

"Did you really let your fucked up childhood, y-your need for a real dad delude you?"

The hurt in Christian's old friend's eyes and the warning in his voice did nothing but encourage Walker to provoke him.

"Stop! It wasn't like that. It was never like that."

"All those people he killed, their blood is on your hands."

"For fuck's sake, I was in LOVE with him, Christian!"

Both men stand there for what seems like minutes to Royalle, his face downcast and uncharacteristically livid.

How could Walker have been so blind?

"I should have known. Shit. I should have fucking known! I remember when you came out, I didn't want to believe it...because that meant you could have liked me too." Christian did nothing to disguise his revulsion.

"Don't flatter yourself. Being gay doesn't mean I want every male on the planet, you ignorant fuck. You were my friend, that's all."

"All those times you found me in bed with a girl, saw me naked...that really must have been hard for you, huh?"

"Shit, Christian. I'm so sorry I've threatened your fragile masculinity. It was obviously impossible for me to resist fawning over you."

Johnny's withering sarcasm was ignored.

"Does Wolfe know you..." Christian hesitated.

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ..." Christian wiped his sweaty upper lip with back of hand "Was he fucking you?!"

"Could you at least try to have a little decorum? What we had...wasn't "Fucking".

Did he have sex with me? Yes. But it wasn't 'fucking'."

"Jesus! What precious bullshit! I forgot how pretentious you can be. I suppose you think you were what- "making love"?! Yeah, that's what you used to insist on calling it. Do you know how pathetic that sounds? I mean, this is Wolfe we're talking about."

"Like I said, you didn't know him like I did."


	2. Dromi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royalle visits Wolfe in the shaft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's possible that the writing in this chapter may seem saccharine to some readers.   
> More description than dialog.

Kneeling before his former mentor after strenuously raising him from the concrete floor, Johnny retrieved his pocket handkerchief and gently wiped the drool from Wolfe's cheek, which was emblazoned with vermilion from being pressed to the ground.  
"What have they been doing to you, my old friend?"

Packets that once held sterile needles lay strewn across a medical tray atop a steel cart and a few lonely droplets of some viscous, translucent fluid were spattered over the surface where there had once been syringes. 

Before Johnny had went into hiding, Wolfe's incarcerated situation had been far more humane. He had clothes, a toilet and a bed among other assorted amenities.  
It seemed dubious that the state would authorize such treatment of a prisoner, even one as notorious as Wolfe.  
Experiments beyond the boundaries of human ethics were conducted on this man at regular intervals for reasons Johnny could not fathom. Perhaps the medical staff didn't think that they needed a reason and likened their captive subject to a creature of lower intellect, no better than a white rat to preform tests on. What possible grounds could they have for removing and replacing that orbitoclast into anyone's socket almost daily when they claimed that the metal rod protruding from his eyes was merely a means to suppress the terrible power within. They weren't always separating the thalamus from the prefrontal lobes either. Mainly because they didn't have enough knowledge of the human brain to know what they were doing. Removing the orbitoclast simply brought him back to consciousness through pain before regeneration could sluggishly take place and the resurfacing the memory of the flowers took hold. Those that were still blooming and he had uprooted in his ravenousness from their lives.  
His suffering was a source of almost sadistic entertainment for the staff, that much was clear anyhow.

Wolfe's preternatural eyes stared into the abyss through the shutters that were his heavy lids instead of to the face in front of him. His body wanted to sleep and he could not seal his eyelids shut due to the orbitoclast forcing one open and the pressure it created was tremendous.  
Royalle had observed that Wolfe's neck was chafed and dark with the residue beneath his collar. Did the staff tend to matters such as this? When did they even feed the man? Wouldn't he be wallowing in his own filth?  
And why on earth was he naked? Presumably to demoralize him and that was hopefully all.

"Here we go" Royalle softly spoke, gingerly pulling the rod out inch by inch. He had seen the men in scrubs remove it before but Johnny decided to err on the side of caution. This was the first time he had tried it himself. A little resistance was met toward the last few centimeters followed by a small popping sound but before Wolfe could scream, Royalle immediately crushed his master's face to his chest to muffle his cries. 

"Shhhhh! You're okay, It's Johnny!" There was more of a distant chariness than warmth in Royalle's voice. Wolfe gasped and choked into the man's maroon shirt until he began to gain his senses again.  
"Johnny?!" Wolfe mewled, suddenly overcome with the urge to put his arms around his pupil, resulting in his straining on his binds.  
"Yes, it's me. Try to stay quiet."

Wolfe quickly calmed down to a steady pant, lazily blinking his sore, dry eyes. The sudden fervency in Wolfe hit Royalle hard and it reminded him of how affectionate, how sweet he could be despite his general detached sagaciousness or closely guarded barbarity. Royalle was ashamed to find himself longing to be the recipient of that dangerous adoration once more. 

"I thought you'd abandoned me..." He rose up, breathing hotly in Royalle's ear "Not my Johnny. No, not him. He's ever so loyal." 

"Please, Master..." Royalle carefully pushed Wolfe away and tried to brush off the dejected expression he was met with "I came here to say something and I'm going to say it."

Wolfe sat on his folded legs and contemplated him with quiet skepticism.

"What if I told you...that I know of a way that you can make up for the past?" 

Wolfe's eyes betrayed a glimmer of hope "How?"

"You leave that to me. With my idea, you can help the Kidz again. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Like things once were?"

A pang of guilt shot through Royalle's chest at the desperation in his addled friend's voice and he found that he could no longer meet his gaze "Yeah. Just like old times." It wasn't exactly a lie, Royalle told himself. It just felt like one. 

He was actually trying in his own way to aid the master he knew so long ago, The one who was still in there somewhere at war with a tormenting bestial spirit.  
It hurt Royalle to acknowledge that it was an act of love regardless if he viewed that love as shattered. If Wolfe could not be saved then the best Royalle could do was to respect his wishes. 

Johnny also pushed away the memories of what it was like to be under the wing of the only man he ever held in such esteem, considered a real father and regarded as the first love of his life.  
The reality of the man who sat before him was obscured by the illusory paragon Royalle still desired. He loved the man, not the beast.

"It sounds like a dream...Am I really awake?" A question asked feebly in the miasma of Wolfe's still-healing mind brought Johnny back to the present. 

"You're not dreaming, old man."

Wolfe was smiling wanly with sentimentality, his hands outstretched as much as he could manage to his dear pupil "Offer me a kiss of validation then...unless you really are simply some merciless phantasm come to taunt me."

Giving no reply other than a dark, downcast glance, Johnny slowly took his master's hands and gritted his teeth from their warmth. He wanted the Wolfe he thought he knew so badly then and the regret of what he felt he had to do next was a crippling weight.

Johnny saw those hands reach for his face and cup his chin and he let himself be pulled into a melting, heartrending kiss. A kiss of what still could be if Royalle would just accept reality.

In his anger and frustration, Royalle threw his master to the floor and sat atop him, scrambling for the handle of the plasma extractor that he threw together one bleak day in his blazer pocket. For a moment, Wolfe's countenance was awash with indignation but in his confusion, he was reminded that he and Royalle had rough housed years ago and was influenced by the misplaced trust he held in his pupil.

"My young pup..."

"STOP" Royalle spat in despair and rammed the needle deep into Wolfe's brain. 

Overwhelming silence fell upon them and all that was heard was Wolfe's ragged intake of breath before his eyes glazed over and the comforting black of unconsciousness overtook him once again.


	3. Gleipnir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny reflects

It was a heavy box, worn from the decades that it had seen pass, made of wood, leather, brass and tacks. The leather and metal flaked but anyone could have seen that it had been much loved. Wolfe had taken it with him wherever he had made his home over the years and now it would find it's resting place on Bear island. 

Royalle sat on a pile of stacked stones, running his freezing hands over the smooth lid of the box on his lap and thinking of the time when he first saw it on the floor of his tutor's closet between some old shoe boxes and a suitcase.   
In it, Johnny had found several photographs from long ago. He saw many strangers and buildings, cars, war machinery and a couple of dogs. But the ones that caught Johnny's attention the most were the ones of the soldiers. Their faces were full of warmth in the company of the man that people called The Wolfe, who was just glowing. In the first few months that Johnny had been taken under Wolfe's wing, he'd never seen that man look so happy.   
Something caught Johnny's eye as he leafed through yellowed newspaper clippings. It was a star of France and Germany. 

He held the medal as he sat in the bitter wind, feeling the tarnished surface with his thumb and the hot, suffocating sobs build up in his throat. An oily patina filled the whorls of his fingerprints and branded the latches of the box before he flicked them open and lifted the lid.

Wolfe's face was serene, a sleeper's face. The wind tousled his hair gently as the sun began to set and caught light in his strawberry-blonde eyelashes.   
He had been so beautiful.

His body was somewhere in police custody to soon be buried in a secluded grave with a humble plaque. There was to be no funeral as it wasn't customary to practice such formalities for an animal. Nobody had even asked Royalle what had become of the head.

Kiss him. Johnny felt that he should but it was killing him. This was only the cold memory of Wolfe, not who he once knew. Not who he had loved and would always love in his own way.   
"Loved" has a hint of finality. 'Loved' is past-tense", Johnny had thought. "When someone you love dies, you're just supposed to say you "loved" them and get on with your life. Like remembering them and the bitter-sweet pain that comes with those memories is a burden because life is for the living. Hell, I even said it about Simons, in my head. Didn't even blink. But Simons did mean something to me even if I couldn't stand him sometimes. Sure, I treated him like shit but like Calista said, we were a thing...God, even she left me" he couldn't help but throw a pity party. He hated himself more than ever before.  
The nagging thought of ending it, of ODing kept resurfacing in the back of his mind but he kept telling himself to go on. The Kidz needed him.  
Jesus, The Kidz. This wasn't really what he wanted was it? To take care of all of the foundlings all by himself. He wasn't as strong as he had originally thought and he was relying on Simons for help. If Wolfe was still alive, if-  
"If only you wouldn't have snapped!" he yelled at Wolfe's face "none of this would have happened..."  
Tears dripped off of the tip of his nose and fell on the smooth lip of skin of what was left of Wolfe's neck. A wave of nausea brought on by grief hit him again.   
It had happened so fast, just like Wolfe always said it did. Like how Royalle learned by experience when he himself had taken lives.   
"Here and gone," He whispered, trying to smooth Wolfe's hair back into place.

"I could've just forgiven you and accepted that beasts need to feed. If you didn't fight the hunger by fasting like you did, you could have controlled it, you idiot. I could have fed you. Supplied you with shit heads like Bug and it all would've worked out if I had just stopped being so fucking stiff."

Would kissing those lips overwhelm and ultimately fade the memories of kissing him when he was warm, alive? When they had been happy. Memories were all Royalle had. They were what was keeping him alive and eventually, they would be what brought him strength to become a mentor of sorts himself, whether he had truly wanted to be one or not.  
"Why couldn't I have just taken him here?" to the island "Simons would have been fine alone with each other."  
Royalle felt then that it was the least he could do to kiss Wolfe goodbye before he lowered him to rest in the hard ground.   
"I love you so much" he barely said.   
And he would love him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with this one.


End file.
